Chapter 36
36
Cat
I can do this. It’s just a pool. Twelve feet deep on this end and three on the other. An Olympic-size pool on the roof of a billionaire’s mansion. For the girl who can’t swim, it might as well be the open ocean.
But I want to make progress on the list before we leave for the trip, and this is the easiest thing left. Tread water for five minutes.
Theo’s on the other side of the glass, running on the treadmill, in nothing but low-slung shorts and a backward hat. He has hip-hop blaring from the speakers, and it makes me want to dance. But instead, I’m dutifully ignoring him and his bare chest.
I climb down the ladder straight into the deep end, though I’d much rather enter from the shallow end. I’ll chicken out if I don’t jump straight in. The salt water is a pleasant eighty, and the sun filters through the retractable glass roof. I scissor my arms and legs like the woman in the video I watched. The way Theo used to on those summer days in the lake.
I hated swimming in the lake. The bottom was never visible, and the water was murky. I didn’t want my feet to touch the muck and the slimy lake weeds, but I didn’t want to dip my face under the water, so I was stuck awkwardly splashing and trying to stay afloat. Not anymore.
I force myself to go slow. A kick whenever I feel myself dipping farther below the surface. I’ll tire out otherwise. How long has it been? I look at the clock above the pool. Thirty seconds.
Lord. Only thirty seconds, and my legs are tired. This is what I get for not working out.
Thirty seconds later, my arms are starting to feel heavy and my legs are slowing. How do lifeguards do this for minutes at a time?
Don’t think about that. Think about anything but how tired your arms are. Like Theo. No, not Theo. Don’t ever think about Theo. He’s too hot for his own good, and mine, and he knows it. Give him an inch, and he’ll take a mile. Let him in, and he’ll destroy you.
Especially with the way he was looking at me with soft approval last night. The way he lent me his unwavering support. His genuine apology.
Three minutes and thirty seconds left.
I’m slipping. Shit. My chin touches water, and I flail. If I die in this stupid pool, it will serve me right. I am not going out before I complete the bucket list. The thought gives me a burst of strength.
Three minutes left.
Damn, I’m really tired. My legs feel like lead. Just a little more.
“Hey.” Theo’s voice comes from behind me. I screech, turning, splashing water into my mouth, coughing. I’m dying . I’m going to die in this salt-water pool. Fuck no.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I look at my husband. He’s still wearing his backward hat, in the water no less. And his shorts. He’s treading water like he was born to it.
“I’m treading water.”
“Looks to me like you’re drowning,” he says cheerfully.
I stick my tongue out. “I’m very tired.”
“Let me help you.” He swims closer, until he’s right behind me. I can feel his heat even in the water .
“I need to do this alone,” I say.
“Okay,” he says. “I’m behind you if you need me.”
Two minutes.
“Distract me,” I pant. “I think my legs have fallen off.”
“Why can’t you swim?”
“I never learned. I hated swimming in that stupid lake. I always thought there were monsters in it. Sentient eels or something. Blech.” I shudder.
He laughs. “Sentient eels? You have quite the imagination.”
“Don’t make fun. I could drown in this pool right now.”
“And your last thoughts would be about sentient eels.”
“It would serve you right,” I mutter. “How come you’re such a good swimmer?”
“You have to be if you’re going to kite surf.”
“Of course you kite surf.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
One minute, thirty seconds. Thank fuck.
“Just that it goes with your whole aesthetic.” I focus on the words and Theo’s annoying presence instead of the way it feels like I’m dragging a tire through the water on my right arm.
“What’s my aesthetic?” Theo is laughing at me, and I can’t bring myself to care.
“Too hot for your own good,” I respond.
He barks a laugh. “You think I’m hot?”
“You know you’re hot. Even that stupid hat is hot. And the tattoo. And all the…swaggering.”
“Swaggering?”
I’m glad I can’t see his face right now, because I’m blushing. “Yes. Normal people don’t walk like that.”
“Tell me more. Walk like what?”
I finally round on him in frustration. Just one minute left. His eyes are laughing at me.
“You walk like you have a huge dick,” I hiss. “There’s no need to flaunt it. We all assumed.”
His eyes fly wide, and he laughs, tipping his head back as he treads water. “You assumed, did you?” He’s smiling like this is the best thing he’s heard in a while.
“I mean—” I gesture at him. “It’s the hands. And the glint in your eye.”
“Tell me more.”
“No, I don’t think I will,” I say. I glance at the clock. Thirty seconds. “Theo, I’m going to collapse when I’m done. Can you hold me up?”
“Of course,” he says, all business.
Thirty seconds passes in drawn-out drips.
“Thank fuck,” I gasp at the end, and Theo’s there, pulling me into his chest and backstroking toward the shallow end. He pauses at the six-foot marker. Over my head but not over his.
I shift in his arms until I’m facing him. He doesn’t let go, just readjusts and lets me twine my leg with his. The tattoo is beautiful. I’ve been dying to see it like this, up close, in the light of day, and I’m not disappointed. There’s depth to the art, even though it’s just black shaded shapes. They twine like smoke, over and under each other, shadows caressing his right pectoral and his round shoulder, tasting his neck.
He kicks in the water, and I clench my hands around his arms. “Stop squirming. I’ve got you,” he says. I relax and float, closing my eyes and tipping my face up to the weak spring sun.
“What was all that?” he asks. His voice rumbles through me.
“It was on the list.”
“You’re supposed to be doing the list with me.”
“There’s nothing in the rules that says I can’t do things on my own.”
“I don’t want you doing dangerous shit without me there.”
My eyes fly open and meet his green gaze. He’s serious.
“This wasn’t dangerous.”
“Maybe not. But you shouldn’t swim alone. Not when you’re learning.”
“Don’t be silly.” I poke at his chest. “I wasn’t in danger.”
“Humor me,” he says darkly .
“You were scared.” I search his face. “Did you actually think I was going to drown?”
His jaw clenches. “It crossed my mind.”
“So you jumped in to save me? Aw, Theo. You really care about your fake wife.” His hand clenches on my waist. He looks pissed at my teasing, and I don’t know why.
“And why wouldn’t I care about you? We’re friends.”
No one else has, my eyes say.
His lips press flat. “People are allowed to care about you, you know. Just because we didn’t speak for years doesn’t mean I want you to drown.”
My heart does a funny little skip at his words, and the way he’s looking at me, like he sees through all my walls and into my center. Even annoyed, he’s incredibly handsome. Thick lashes and arched brows and those cut cheekbones. I want to lose myself in the strength and heat of him and the way he makes me feel like he’ll never falter. I want to savor this, just for a minute. I run my fingers over the tattoo, following it from his neck, down his chest, to his taut stomach. He lets me explore until I get to his armpit.
“None of that, or I’ll let you drown.” He captures my hand and presses it flat to his stomach. Slick ridges of muscle meet my fingers. I want to explore more. I want to let my hand drift down and feel every inch of where he’s firm and I’m not. My fingers dip to the slab of muscle at his side.
“None of that, or we’ll both drown,” he says, his voice low. My nails scrape his stomach muscles, and they jump under his skin.
“You’ve never done this in the water before?” I tip my head up to his, imagining that yes, he’s done this a hundred times. He’s deflowered virgins in this pool, like some salt-slicked god.
“No.” He brushes a thumb under my jaw. “Well, once I had the best kiss of my life in the water.”
“The best? Who was she?” I hate the way jealousy makes my words sharp. He must be referring to that girl he left me for. Even though he was never mine to begin with.
“Really, Cat?” He’s speaking the words over my lips. “Really? ”
“Oh,” I whisper.
“Yes, oh,” he teases. I think he’s going to pull away, but his lips hover over mine. His breaths are gentle and not enough.
Not even close.
If I kiss Theo now, it’s not for show. There’s no one watching. I want it. I want him in a way that nineteen-year-old me couldn’t have fathomed. Back then, I wanted to touch his biceps and admire the way his back flexed when he walked. Now, I want his soft mouth and his punishing lips and the way his teeth scrape against my skin. I want him brutal and unyielding and forcing me against the pool deck.
I press my lips to his before I can chicken out.
It’s our first kiss all over again. His mouth warms mine as he slides his tongue along the seam of my lips. I open, and he pulls my bottom lip into his mouth. He tastes like salt and like Theo. Little shivers zip through me as we kiss, and he bands me to him. Theo isn’t a quiet kisser. A sound of enjoyment rumbles up from his chest as my tongue meets his. Heat flares under my skin. I need more of him. I twine my arms around his neck and open more for him. He squeezes my waist in approval as he deepens the kiss.
It’s still not enough. I tug on his hair, and he breaks the kiss to laugh. “Want more?” I try to capture his laugh with my mouth, and the pleased sound he makes vibrates through me.
He pulls me flush to his body as he hardens against me. Just like he did on that summer day at the lake. And just like then, the feel of his erection pressing into me makes me feel warm and fluttery and alive.
Shivers of desire zip up my spine, between my legs. I want to climb him. I want to let him spread me on the sun deck and push into me. He’s kissing me like he’d rather kiss me than breathe, and I love it. My belly swoops and dips with each slide of my tongue against his.
I want more. My hands drop to the waistband of his shorts, right as he breaks the kiss to drag his tongue up my neck. “Fuck, Cat,” he mutters, as I dip my fingers under the elastic. He’s hot and hard, and I want to push his shorts down, but his hand on my waist tightens, and he walks us back to the edge of the pool before I get a chance. I didn’t even realize we’d touched the bottom.
“What else is on the list?” he asks. His eyes meet mine. They’re wild. His breathing is ragged.
The list. Right.
I think if I told him that there was nothing left on the list, he might take me in the pool anyway.
My brain flicks through each item—learn to give a really good blowjob, try anal, public sex, have multiple orgasms.
“Multiple orgasms,” I say.
Theo looks briefly stunned but quickly recovers. “So you’re asking me to give you multiple orgasms? Just so we’re clear?”
“Not if you’re going to be smug about it,” I mutter. “You make—”
He silences me with a hard kiss, cupping my jaw and pushing me into the tile like he did in the pool the other night. My annoyance melts, turning into liquid heat inside me.
He pulls back. “I have thought of nothing but giving you multiple orgasms for the past two weeks. Get on the edge.” He’s already hoisting me up before I have a chance to respond. He’s breathing heavily, but he undoes the ties of my bathing suit with steady hands. The suit falls off into the water, and he stills. I’m bared to him, pinned by his hand between the tile and his mouth. I squirm as he looks, studying me like he’s deciding how to devour me.
“Theo—”
His face is intent. “Don’t say anything. Just—” He nips at my thigh, and I watch the tattoo on his neck flex. “Let me do this.”
I nod shallowly. Theo’s head is between my legs before I can blink. The first touch of his tongue makes me gasp. It’s warm and wet, and so deliciously perfect against me. He drags the flat of it over my clit before he pushes my thighs wider with a noise of frustration. It’s right on the edge of being uncomfortable, with the tile against my shoulders and my ass on the concrete and my thighs spread wide. He pins me there with one broad hand. I’m at his mercy, and I love it.
I love the sounds he makes as he keeps a steady rhythm with his tongue. I love the feel of his shoulders, warm and smooth under my hands. He’s building an orgasm slowly, circling his tongue, then pulling away, parting me with one finger, but not pushing in. Lick by slow, delicious lick, until I’m panting and desperate on the edge of the pool for him.
“Theo, please.” My voice is strangled.
He pushes one finger inside me in answer, the stretch delicious and not enough. He circles it. In and out, slow and torturous, like he has all day to make me come. I might die first. I’m a cup filled near to overflowing, and I so badly want to spill over the edge.
He licks, I moan.
He sucks my clit into his mouth, and I shake.
He pushes a second finger inside me, flicks his tongue just right, and I explode. My head drops back and the pleasure spreads like shockwaves through my body. I clench around his fingers, over and over, not caring that I’m squirming and shaking and moaning something unintelligible.
He tongues me through the orgasm, and when I open my eyes, he’s watching me with undisguised masculine satisfaction.
“Proud of yourself, are you?” My voice comes out weak.
“Get on the lounge chair,” he responds.
I scramble to comply. He rises from the pool, water sluicing off him. I watch as he stalks toward me. I can’t look away. This isn’t the Theo I expected. He might be playful and teasing out of bed. But in bed, he’s rough and all-consuming.
And dirty.
He steps between my legs. He pushes his soaked shorts to the tile and wraps his hand around his cock.
So fucking dirty.
I love it. My chest heaves, and his eyes devour me.
“Are you on birth control?” He pushes into his hand. He looks ravenous for me.
I nod.
“Do you want me to use a condom?” His forearm flexes. His cock is far too big to fit in his hand, so I get an eyeful—the slick head, the veined shaft .
“I was tested. And I, um, haven’t been with anyone in a while.” Not something I’d normally admit.
His face takes on a viciously satisfied cast. “Me too. You’re good with this?”
“Theo. Please.” I squirm on the lounger.
He cocks his head. “I want consent. Tell me this is okay.” Another stroke, his hips pushing forward, his breath catching. He’s so casual about this, looking at me with that cocky amusement. He’ll make me wait. My body tightens at the idea of ceding control to him, letting him push into me, bare.
“I want it,” I say, my voice coming out shaky.
He smiles. “Lay back.”
I recline, my stomach jumping. Is he going to—oh, that’s not what I expected.
He strokes himself over me, and the visual of it is something I want to remember forever. I don’t know where to look—his burning gaze, his corded neck, his perfect chest, his hand working over his shaft. “You’re so hot like this,” he murmurs. “Spread out for me. I’ve spent so long wanting you.” He has? He means since I told him about the list. “Let me mark you, princess. I need to. I’ll make you scream, but first, give me this.”
“Please,” I whisper. I want it so badly, want him .
His body jerks. He’s close. His mouth goes slack.
“Fuck.”
His eyes are hot on mine as his stomach muscles ripple and he chokes a breath. And then he’s coming on my stomach, painting me with white.
His chest rises and falls in panting breaths. I’m so turned on that I can’t move. I’m frozen in place, drinking him in, hoping he’ll touch me again.
And then he drops to his knees and puts his mouth on me again. I’m sensitive from earlier, but Theo feels so good. His tongue is clever and hot, licking and swirling and lapping at me. And then he stops.
I open my eyes.
He slides a finger through the wetness on my stomach, raises a brow. He wants consent again. I’ve never done this before, but I want to do it with him. I give a shallow nod, and he responds with a satisfied smile. Then he pushes his finger inside me. It’s slick from his come, and this is so dirty. So dirty and so hot. I clench around him as he works his finger in and out, but I can’t finish.
“Another.” His voice is rough. “Give me another.”
“I can’t.” I can feel the orgasm just out of reach. My hips push up in frustration. “I’ve never had two, Theo, it’s okay.”
He adds a second finger. “There’s no pressure.” He blows a stream of air on my clit. “You don’t have to come.” He flicks the tip of his tongue over me, and the heaviness builds between my legs. “In fact, don’t. I love doing this. I could lick you all day. My favorite dessert. Better than chocolate.”
“Liar,” I pant.
He sucks my clit, hard, and I gasp. “I’m not lying. You taste good.” My body clenches around him, and he makes a pleased sound against me. “Don’t come, princess. Don’t even think about coming.” He crooks his fingers like he did the other night. “You’re so fucking hot like this. Marked with me. I love it.”
His rough voice sends shivers through me. The pleasure he’s building is like a pot of warm honey, thick and liquid inside of me, spreading from my clit, through my stomach and my legs. “I’m close,” I pant.
“Don’t come,” he rumbles. His fingers plunge in and out. “You can take it. Don’t think about how hot it is that I’m filling you up, that you’re making a mess of me. Don’t think about how my come is drying on your skin.”
“Fuck,” I whisper.
“Don’t come, baby. Don’t come.”
He tongues me again, swiping over my clit, and I’m there. My stomach is tight and my legs shake, and then he twists his fingers just right, and I soar off the edge. Falling and falling, except this time, Theo’s there to catch me.
He presses his face to my thigh, and I thread shaky fingers through his hair. Our breaths heave in unison .
I don’t want him to go. My nails scrape against his scalp and he sighs. I never thought it could be this good with someone, but of course it is with Theo. He’s a protector, a giver, and that extends to bed.
When he finally looks up at me, a smile plays on his lips. “Dirty enough for you?”
I laugh. I can’t help it.
“What are we doing, Theo?”
He stands, naked and proud, and pulls me off the lounger. “We’re doing the list.”
Right. The list. Items I’ll do with my fake husband, who I definitely won’t fall for, and who definitely won’t break my heart again.
Sure.